


House Guest

by Silverstar309



Series: In Which We Are Bound [1]
Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Blood and Injury, Christmas Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, New Year's Fluff, Past Relationship(s), Surgery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-01
Updated: 2018-01-01
Packaged: 2019-02-26 06:22:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13229844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silverstar309/pseuds/Silverstar309
Summary: He heard a thump and a muffled scream as well Pongo’s barking before he emerged from behind the door, ready to curse the person who had just interrupted his peace and destroyed his progress in fixing the house’s wards, be it one of his own followers or some wandering muggle lost in the snow.Which turned out to be neither of those.“Director Graves?! What the devil are you doing here and how did you find my house?!”_____When Percival Graves decides to disappear for Christmas, he gets far more than he's bargained for.





	House Guest

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kallistob](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kallistob/gifts).



> This is a gift to one of my favorite writers, Merry Christmas dear! Sorry its late and it might have a few mistakes in it, just warning ya

Christmas. It was Christmas. And Percival fucking hated it.

 

It wasn't the endless christmas carols or the blaring red and green lights strung around the office. The look on everyone’s faces, so full of cheer and joy and happiness. It wasn't Piquery’s rare holiday smile, so genuine and sweet it rivaled all those gingerbread cookies and pastries the Goldstein sisters brought over every year. It wasn't the giant overbearing and over decorated tree that stood smack in the middle of MACUSA’s main lobby.

 

No, it had nothing to do with those things. The things that had once brought a smile to Percival’s face, that had once brought him great joy and amusement. They didn't anymore, not this year. This year was different. This year was worse.  
People shouted at him, gave him looks of pity and mistrust. His aurors never deign to look into his face anymore, rarely ever conversing with him other that a shy ‘Good morning sir’ or a ‘anything else, Mister Graves’. They avoided him, always rushing off somewhere after giving him whatever it was that he needed. Never once looking at his face. The face that Grindelwald stole. The face of a man who threatened to kill them all if they didn't obey him, who nearly executed Tina Goldstein without even batting an eye.

 

Piquery made it worse. After Grindelwald released him and sent him back, looking like not a day has passed him and that he hadn't been missing for a month, she reluctantly gave him back his job. Under one condition, he had to catch all the criminals Grindelwald let loose into the city during his absence. Percival agreed of course, not wanting to upset her any further. Until he found out how many there were and how much paperwork had piled up on his desk while Grindelwald was managing it.

Days turned to weeks, weeks turned to months of nothing but Piquery breathing down his neck, of his colleagues avoiding him at all cost, of not sleeping more than two hours a day, seven days a week. Of the wearing him down and looked at him as if they hadn't been the ones to a let a dangerous dark wizard walk amongst them, talking with them, laughing with them. It drove Percival insane just thinking about how long that went until Scamander pointed out that he was missing. A magizoologist had to point out to America’s finest aurors that their boss was missing.

 

So when he came to the office that first week of December and found a box of cookies on his desk, not even wrapped but just sitting there with a note that said ‘We Hope You're Doing Well’, he lost it. He threw the cookies up against the wall and burned the note with a cigarette lighter.

 

______

 

The house was perfect, as it should be for one of his houses, especially around this time of year. The mountain house was definitely Gellert's favorite house to spend the holidays in, what with it being so warm despite the harsh weather conditions outside and utterly unreachable by any magical means from being built into the side of a very large and forested mountain side, charmed to the brim with ancient spells to keep unwanted visitors away.

 

Yes, the perfect hideaway, he thought as he sipped the hot chocolate out of his mug.

 

It was his family's house, but what with his father passing away when he was 18, his mother not long after, and his little sister disappearing to God knows where, with who knows who, it was his house whenever he could afford the time to stay in it. Not even his followers knew its exact location, whatever owls they needed to send him were delivered by birds he had gifted them himself, and ONLY those birds knew where to go. Gellert went to great lengths to preserve this single fortress of solitude, his own private getaway mansion.

 

Which meant he was alone for most of the time, the only other living creatures in the house being his owl, Schnell, and his dog, Pongo. The latter of which now lying comfortably asleep in front of the fireplace, one gargantuan paw resting on Gellert’s foot as he read one of the few muggle books he found relatively interesting whilst drinking hot chocolate out of his favorite mug.

 

He smiled as Pongo shifted, seating another paw on his master's bare foot, effectively hugging said foot with both paws. Gellert made himself a rule to never wear shoes in the house since they made it all the more tedious to clean, as such were his work clothes, which were hung and exchanged with a nice, warm sweater and loose pants whenever he got home. Why should he wear clothes that would choke him on the holidays for God’s sake?

 

He sighed as he finished the very last chapter of the book, setting it, his reading glasses, and the mug onto the coffee table before putting the fire out with a snap of his fingers. Oh how simple everything became when you were a dark wizard. He sat up from the comfort of his armchair, waking poor Pongo in the process, before setting off towards the carpeted staircase that would lead up to where his room was.

 

Pongo’s feet tapped against the floorboards as he followed his master to the stairs, of which he savored their softness upon his paws.

 

Gellert ran his fingers up the railing, it wasn't that he needed the support, he just liked feeling the thrum of the house’s ancient magic coursing through the wood. He always thought the house a living thing as a child, sometimes feeling its heartbeat if he lay his head against the floorboards. Now though, that ancient magic grew weaker whenever he was absent from it, so each year during the holidays he would take the time to renew those ancient dark and near forgotten spells so he could savor that heartbeat once more.

 

As he reached the top of the stairs he felt the house shiver, as if to tell him something was wrong.

 

“Did you feel that Pongo?” he said, addressing the dog but looking around to see if anything was amiss. Nothing was. Pongo, for all his youth and laziness, merely halted and sniffed the air, ears raised in alarm. Nothing.

 

Gellert continued towards his room, brushing off the sudden alarm of the house as a muggle or wild animal that had probably triggered one of the wards. There were many spells cast on the house and parts of the forest around it to alert him of any trespassers. Gellert silently wonders if his ancestors ever made any specifications towards human or animal trespassers, otherwise how come the house was just acting like this now? Had it ever reacted this violently before? None of the owls or deer or other animals have ever triggered that kind of response, or had he just not noticed them when they did?

 

He got to his door and was about to twist the handle open when a violent current of magic passed through him. Another warning, he thought grimly. Now Pongo was acting up too, barking and growling madly before charging through the hallway and down the stairs. Moments later another tremor passed through the house, this time nearly knocking him off his feet. Gellert considered that perhaps this was the mountain threatening to fall or that the house was being hit by an avalanche and only the ancient protection spells were keeping it standing. Until he heard a knock at the door, actually three knocks, and he realized two things all at once.

 

The ancient wards that had concealed the house for so long had fallen. Someone had found the house's perfectly hidden location. That someone was now at his his door, and he was going to find out who.

 

_______

 

After the gingerbread incident, Percival had decided he wanted to be away from MACUSA for a little while. Far, far away, preferably in another country altogether. He left a note for Piquery, stating he needed some time alone and that he finished all the paperwork that needed to be done before the holidays ended. Also one for Queenie, an apology for not being able to eat the cookies, which he collected off of his wall and the floor before promptly throwing into the dustbin.

 

He left with nothing but a suitcase filled with spare clothes and only a general idea of where he was going and what he was looking for. Somewhere no one could find find him, where no one would even try to find him, a place nobody would even try looking. And naturally, before he left, he paid Gnarlak a little visit to see if such a place even existed, because in all his experience as an auror, the fact that criminals knew all the best hiding places was practically a given truth.

 

“Well Mister Graves, even if I did know a place, I sure as hell ain't tellin’ you where it is” the grizzly old goblin spat, an unamused scowl on his face.

 

Percival slided a few coins over the table before sighing. “Look, I just want a place no one’ll find me. Heck, send me over to Grindelwald's place if you have to, I just need some peace and quiet”

 

“Grindelwald eh? Well I might know something about him”, Gnarlak took smoke from his pipe before speaking again. “Granted, the guy’s got so many hidden safe houses any one of ‘em oughta fit yer bill, rumor has it he’s got this nice, cozy little mansion tucked away in the German mountains. Lot o’ his guys try findin’ it. Never do. The higher ups got ‘em thinkin’ only their owls know where it is”

 

“Their owls know where it is? How?”

 

“Cause Grindelwald gave ‘em the birds himself. Look, if you wanna try findin’ the place, be my guest but even his highest ranking officers say only the birds know where it is. They started callin’ it ‘The Hidden Palace’, and nobody but Grindelwald can find it, so good luck with that”

 

Though Gnarlak seemed pretty pessimistic about his chances, Percival thought it seemed worth a shot. MACUSA wouldn't waste their time finding something that nobody could find, much less count on a bunch of criminal birds to find it. He set off on his little trip a day later, arranging a little portkey for himself with some help from a friend in Belgium, and from there began his search for the owls belonging to the criminals Gnarlak mentioned. It wasn't easy, it took him a week to find and intercept just one of them before placing a tracking spell on it, unbeknownst to its owner that is. But even with that, tracking the bird’s movements every day, following as closely as possible, days began to pass before he found the area the mansion was in.

 

The owl he’d been tracking lead him to a large a mountain range surrounded by already snow covered forest. The bitter cold had been a given, but not what he was expecting when Gnarlak told him the place was ‘cozy’, and the few clothes he packed, though consisting of a few thick woolen sweaters, were hardly enough to keep him warm. It didn't help that he was running out of food either.

 

The mountain wasn't very steep, much to Percival’s relief, though it wasn't very easy to hike either. He thought about apparating once or twice during his ascent, but something was blocking his ability to do so, even though he could actually see where he wanted to land just a few feet away. The more he walked, the more something seemed to block his path, like an invisible border made out of thin air but one that he could still walk through, and yet the further he got, the stronger that border became.

 

It was very late into the evening when he felt it. Trudging through the snow, feet already numb within his shoes, Percival hit some sort of invisible wall. A shield or perhaps even a ward. But how could that be? There was nothing in front of him worth hiding, aside from a few trees and-

 

Percival looked up and he saw it. A house, no, a mansion built into the side of the mountain. The trees obscured most of it from his vision, but he could still see it. Grindelwald’s fabled winter hideaway, in all its ominous glory, dark wood trimmings and roofings, giant elongated windows. Windows that were still bright, that seemed to glow amongst their dark surroundings. Which meant that someone, likely Grindelwald himself, was inside.

 

A sudden surge of power overcame him. You don't belong here. Go home, forget this place. You don't belong here….

 

No, he thought. He’d come too far to just turn back now. All that work, days of following that blasted owl, trudging through snow and ice and the bitter winter freeze. All for nothing. Percival thought of Piquery, of how angry she'd be if he returned to MACUSA now. He thought of his aurors, their disappointed faces at him leaving them again, only to return empty handed. He thought of those criminals he hadn’t gotten to yet, of the sleepless nights he’d have to spend tracking them down.

 

No. He was Percival Fucking Graves, MACUSA's Director of Magical Security, and no ward or protection spell was going to keep him from finding some peace of mind this season.

 

Using all his strength and willpower he apparated to the house, feeling whatever wards that stood before him break and fall and shatter, making way for him to approach his destination as he landed softly on the porch. The house was much more gargantuan up close, even the single dark wood door was at least three feet taller than he was and a foot and a half wider. The golden gargoyle shaped knocker on the door and light seeping through the floor seemed all too inviting for Percival, who had spent months rotting away in MACUSA's office and days trying to find the house in the first place.

 

He knocked three heavy cuffs onto the door, relishing in the thumping noise they made, before it opened, revealing a glimpse of a red carpeted stairway and the tip of a glistening silver chandelier. All this he saw before being tackled to the ground by something big, fanged, and furry.

_____

 

Gellert wasn't sure what he was expecting when he opened the door, but certainly not this.

 

When he ran down the stairs after hearing the knocks, the first thing he did was take his wand out of his pocket and motion for Pongo to stop barking and clawing at the door. He secretly thanks his own tentative mind for hiding the Elder Wand securely in his bedroom, since he never intended to use it on the holidays.

 

He quickly maneuvered himself in front of the dog, placing himself beside the door with his one free hand on the handle.

 

“On the count of three, I open the door and you jump at whoever’s outside. Got it?” he whispered, also thanking his ancestors for placing silencing charms on the house and for Pongo’s subtle understanding of the human language.

 

Pongo growled his agreement, crouching back a few steps into an almost wolf like stalking position. Gellert waited a few seconds before mouthing the words ‘Drei. Zwei. Eins!’ as he unlocked the door with a spell and pulled it wide open, a signal for Pongo to launch himself at their unannounced visitor.

 

He heard a thump and a muffled scream as well Pongo’s barking before he emerged from behind the door, ready to curse the person who had just interrupted his peace and destroyed his progress in fixing the house’s wards, be it one of his own followers or some wandering muggle lost in the snow.

 

Which turned out to be neither of those.

 

“Director Graves?! What the devil are you doing here and how did you find my house?!” Gellert growled as he pointed his wand at the Director. He honestly hated surprises when they involved one of his enemies.

 

“Gee Grindelwald, nice to see you too, ” Graved said as he tried to fight the dog off. “Would you mind getting this mutt off of me?”

 

“Not until you tell me why you’re here,” Gellert huffed before adding; “And Pongo is not a mutt. I’ll have you know he’s a purebred leonberger, the oldest breed of dog in my country”

 

“Okay, okay fine. I’m sorry I called your dog a mutt. And as for why I’m here…..I….came to find some peace of mind”

 

“Peace of mind? I’m sorry Director, but if you wanted some ‘peace of mind’, you're going to have to try somewhere else” Gellert liked spending his holidays alone, thank you very much.

 

“Look, even if I did have somewhere else to go, MACUSA will most likely find me and drag me back to my office. They’ll make me spend my holidays doing paperwork and cleaning up all of your messes. I am sick and tired of being looked at like an overworked mule and being pitied and blamed by people who didn’t seem to care about me in the first place to notice I was gone for a month!” Graves attempted to glare at Gellert , only to be blocked by the dark wizard’s dog. “So no Grindelwald, I have nowhere else to go and I’d rather die in the freezing cold than go back to that Hell you left me in”

 

Gellert stared at him, considering his options on how to handle this situation. On one hand he could leave Graves out in the cold, but then the other man could freeze himself to death or worse, tell others of Gellert's location. On the other hand, if he let the Director stay, he could say goodbye to his own peace of mind from having one of the biggest threats to his cause and wellbeing in his house for nearly an entire month.

 

Pongo was already growling his decision, ready to gauge a hole out of Graves’s throat if his master couldn't make up his mind. That was until Gellert gave him the command to lay off, to which he whined his indignation.

 

“Oh come off it Pongo,” Gellert sighed at the big dog before finally turning to Graves and crossing his arms. “Fine. I will let you stay, but only if you keep away from anything that has to do with my cause, my magic, and don't go snooping around for things to bring home to your little president as a consolation prize”

 

Percival breathed in puff of cold air as the dog backed away. “Agreed. I hate bringing work on vacation anyway. And don't worry about Piquery, I didn't tell her where I was going, only that I needed some time to myself. Could you help me up, please?”

 

Gellert took the other man’s extended hand pulled him up, still keeping his distance from him. A thousand outcomes played out in his head, most of them were of Graves betraying him or selling him out to MACUSA, others were of Gellert himself making sure that the former never happens. Of course, he could just hold Graves captive like the last time, but what would that accomplish? The other man was just looking for an escape and some peace of mind, much like Gellert whenever the holiday seasons approached and he would tell all his followers to go home and spend time with their families whilst he himself would hide away in the house. It was a gruelling decision, in a very ‘let all consequences be damned’ kind of situation, but one that could better Graves’s own picture of Gellert and make up for the whole New York fiasco. It was the holidays after all.

 

“Take your shoes and coat off, don't bother getting out your wand, I’m not in the mood for a duel” Gellert said as Graves dragged his suitcase through the threshold, placing his snow encrusted shoes beside Gellert's boots and his coat on a nearby coat rack. Gellert shut the door with a sigh as Pongo shook all the snow off his back and paws before growling softly at Graves. It was going to be a very interesting season.

_______

 

When Percival first saw the house from the outside, he imagined how warm and glamorous it must’ve been to actually live in it. He imagined, as he apparated up the mountain, grand paintings and ornaments hanging on the walls, countless pieces of unused yet well kept furniture, and maybe a grand piano at the center of it all. Perhaps it was the cold or his ridiculously over expectant imagination, perhaps it was because he saw Grindelwald as the type to have such things, but….he certainly didn't expect this.

 

There were no paintings or ornaments hanging off the walls, in fact the walls were blank except for their wallpaper and wooden finish. There were no grand pieces of furniture other than a couch and several armchairs that stood by the fire to his far right and an elongated dining table and chairs that sat quite ordinarily below the large silver chandelier. There was a piano, a very elegant black one at that, but it looked to be shoved away into the space between the fireplace and another wall, where it diagonally faced one of the large windows.

 

It wasn't until Grindelwald let out an undignified cough that Percival finally noticed he was staring.

 

“Is there something wrong with my house Mister Graves?” the dark wizard asked, looking for all the world like a very unamused butler.

 

“Oh, um, nothing….its just that, well I expected something more….” he couldn't find the right word that wouldn't evidently cause Grindelwald to slap him.

 

“Grand? Elegant? Extravagant? Are those the words you're looking for Director?”, when Percival didn't answer he continued; “Well I’m sorry if my humble little mansion doesn't meet your expectations. But if you don't mind, hurry up so I can show you your room”

 

Percival nodded and followed, torn between annoyance and confusion. Grindelwald's house was nothing like what he’d expected as they climbed to the second floor that overlooked the first. Much like the man himself. The Grindelwald who had imprisoned and impersonated Percival had been all confidence and grandiose theatrics, dressed like he was going to a cocktail party every single day if not wearing Percival’s own face. The man who was now leading him to his room, the only door to the left corner of the stairs, however acted nothing short of ordinary and almost mundane, wearing what looked to be a black sweater and trousers as if he wasn't the most feared dark wizard of their time, as if the man he was escorting through his house wasn't his enemy.

 

“Speaking of rooms, how long do you plan on staying?” Grindelwald asked as they reached the door.

 

“Till the holidays end. Roughly around New Year’s, give or take a few days maybe” Percival replied as he set his suitcase down only for Grindelwald’s dog to start sniffing and poking it with his paws. “Does he always do that?”

 

The dog, Pongo, growled and Grindelwald chuckled.

 

“Oh don't mind him, he just doesn't like strangers”

 

“Oh……”, which made Percival wonder if any of his followers knew he had a dog in the first place, or if the dark wizard had any more ambiguous secrets.

 

Grindelwald turned his back to Percival, focussing instead on a set of keys he swore the other man did not have in his hands just moments ago. “Your president doesn't know you're here, does she?”

 

“No, as far as she's concerned I’ve disappeared off the face of the Earth and frankly I can't say if she'd care”, whether his words were uttered from spite or a long suffering knowledge of bitter truth, it was hard to tell.

 

“Good,” Grindelwald said as the door finally swung open. Percival felt his knees go weak.

 

He didn't care for the room itself. No, that didn't matter. What mattered was the bed. An actual four poster bed, sheets whiter and fluffier than the any cloud or sheep’s wool he’d ever seen, pillows that looked like they hadn't been used since the first time they were stuffed. It looked like the beds at his family’s estate, the soft, insomnia repelling mattresses he had to live without when he moved to pursue his career as an auror. Granted, his salary permitted that he could have gotten a much comfier bed than the one currently in his apartment any time he wanted, but time was never on his side when it came to those things, and in all honesty he would have if he wasn't so busy all the time. But now, staring at what Grindelwald had placed right in front of him, had basically agreed and willingly given to him for as long as he wanted, Percival could not bare the thought of that monstrosity any longer in comparison to the masterpiece that sat before him.

 

He hadn't even realized he was moving, didn't register the movement of his own feet crossing the room before he collapsed onto that soft, heavenly bed, clutching its sheets as if they were a lifeline, sighing and sagging into their surprisingly warm embrace. Then the sheets began to rearrange themselves, twisting and folding until Percival was curled up inside them, eyes half lidded and struggling to stay open. They finally closed as the door was swung shut, along with the subtle laughter of the man behind it.

_______

 

He wakes up feeling like a king. In all his time working with MACUSA, Percival had never gotten such a good bout of sleep. No nightmares, no chilling and unwanted breezes through the window, no stupid alarm clock to tell him he had to go to work. It was just him, the pillows, and Grindelwald's heavenly bed sheets and fluffy mattress. Grindelwald.

 

The sudden realization of what had transpired the night before comes creeping in like a spider, enough to make Percival shift from under the bone white covers. Grindelwald. He was currently lying in a bed in Grindelwald's house in a forest on a mountain side in Germany, an entire ocean away from his aurors, MACUSA, and Piquery with no means of calling for help if things went to hell and Grindelwald decided to kill him. But then again, it was the holidays, he had chosen to come here on his own free will to get away from all that, and Grindelwald had let him stay and had given him an entire room to himself to stay in as long as he didn't mes with any of the dark wizard's plans if they didn't involve him in any way.

 

Percival rolled over to his left side, glaring at the door, silently daring Grindelwald to burst in with ropes or a pair of handcuffs to tie him up and prep him for some kind of sick torture game, to tell him everything he said last night was a lie and that the bed had only been to lure him into a false sense of security. Percival starred and nothing came, so he got up, unpacked most of his clothes, and changed into something that looked mildly presentable before leaving the room and making his way down the stairs.

 

The light that shone through the windows told him it was already midday, which meant that he must've slept for a little more than ten hours at least. Grindelwald must have been awake by now, and sure enough, he could see the dark wizard sitting at the table, reading what looked to be a very, very thick leather book, possibly a tome. As he got closer he could also see torn sheets of parchment scattered all over the table, some bearing pictures and others bore faded texts in a language Percival had never seen before.

 

“I see you're finally awake” Grindelwald said, motioning for Percival to take a seat. “I’ve never seen anyone collapse on a bed like that before, makes one wonder what it is that they did to you over there”

 

“I was tired”, they hadn't let him rest for a very long while, since there was so much work to be done and so little time, trying to fix all that Grindelwald had left in shambles. As he explained this, Grindelwald chuckled.

 

“Still, you slept in for two whole days yesterday. I was beginning to think you fell into a coma”

 

“Well I’m awake now and not to mention…..a little hungry”, and if it was true that he had spent two days asleep in that luxurious bed, then he probably would be needing a shower soon as well.

 

Grindelwald looked up at him and-

 

Oh. He was wearing glasses. And black and red striped scarf.

 

“And you suppose I’ll make you lunch?” the dark wizard said, and Percival couldn't tell if it was an actual question or a rhetorical one. “Fine, but don't complain if its not pizza or hotdogs”

 

“You know that's not all we eat over there right?”

 

“Yes, but I did live as you for a month and my mouth still hasn’t recovered from your eating habits”

 

As he got up, Percival noticed that not only was Grindelwald wearing a scarf, but a matching red sweater with the words ‘ _Wie man in den Wald hineinruft, so schault es heraus’_ stitched on it in gold thread. It was…odd to see Grindelwald dressed so casually and act as if he actually cared about Percival’s wellbeing.

 

He watched as the parchment and book began to rearrange themselves into a nice little pile, and in doing so he saw what looked to be a map of the entire house and mountain side on one of the papers. “Planning renovations, Grindelwald? Or are you trying to bury this house deeper into the mountain?”

 

Grindelwald didn't answer, instead he completely ignored Percival as he walked towards a set of double doors that Percival had failed to notice upon his arrival. Watching as the dark wizard disappeared behind said doors, Percival began to wonder if he’d found the wrong Grindelwald.

_____

 

There were many ways to relieve stress. Knitting, writing, torturing, beating, killing, and of course, perhaps his favorite, cooking. And today, Gellert was in the mood to completely destroy his kitchen.

 

Two days. That was how long he’d spent trying to fix the wards Graves had consequently plowed through upon his arrival, somehow leaving them in absolute shambles. Two days, and he’d only managed to patch them up, barely strengthening them and nearly draining himself of all his energy. Two days, and when Graves finally decides to wake up, he asks Gellert for lunch. Lunch, when Gellert himself had only eaten a single kreppel for breakfast before launching himself back into his study and scrolling through more ancient tomes to fix his house.

 

He pulls out an already skinned deer from out of the meat locker and begins to saw and butcher the carcass. He was too tired to do it the night before, when Pongo had initially brought it down whilst he was fixing the wards, and all he’d managed to do was skin it when they got home. As he began to separate the rack from the haunches, he wonders which part would make a nice lunch.

 

When the doors to the kitchen creek open, he immediately knows its Pongo from tapping sound his paws make.

 

“What do you think boy? Shanks or haunches?” he says as he slices the flesh between the deer’s shoulders. “Or maybe I should flay the breast?”

 

The kitchen table was a relatively high one, but with Pongo’s height and size, the dog could easily oversee his master’s work in butchering his latest, though poorly sized prize. After a while Gellert glanced at his dog, who was in turn staring at the ribs that he was currently stripping, which could only mean one thing. “Racks! Of course, that's brilliant mein hund! Graves will love it”

 

He tossed a strip of meat into Pongo's awaiting maw before placing the racks aside and hastily cutting, sawing, and stripping the rest of the deer. He always preferred to do all this manually, despite it always being a very messy process with all the shredded pieces of fat and bone everywhere, not to mention the stench of raw meat. But then again, it was his kitchen, so who was going to complain if it smelt of blood and gore every now and then?

 

After carefully sorting the meat back into the meat locker, and of course tossing some of the bones onto a dish for Pongo to finish them off, he soon gets to work on the racks and the filling he was going plate with them. Hopefully Graves had not lost his appetite.

______

 

He had no idea what was taking Grindelwald so long to make a simple lunch meal, but whatever the dark wizard was cooking, he sure was taking his time. The idea of Grindelwald actually cooking seemed a little absurd at first, but since he found no indication of a house elf in the house, Percival was left to assume that that was indeed the case. Nevertheless, boredom was slowly creeping into his mind and before he knew it, Percival was wandering around, trying to over analyze his surroundings.

 

At first he wanted to read the tome and sheets of parchment that Grindelwald had already left on the table, until he remembered he couldn't actually read half of what was written and the other half was either faded or crossed out in places. Then he moved towards the fireplace and the two armchairs and single couch that formed a half circle around it. It was your standard brick fireplace, if only furbished to blend in more with the wallpaper. He ran a hand over the surface and found dips in the stone that weren’t from the gaps in its construction. No, these were long and diagonal, almost jagged dips that the paper seamlessly covered up as if to hide them.

 

He wondered what caused them and pondered whether or not to ask Grindelwald about it, until he remembered that he was on vacation and shouldn’t bother himself with mysteries and dangerous investigations. Those could wait till after the holidays.

 

The next thing that caught his eyes was the piano. The elegant black grand piano that he saw the first night he arrived, sitting idly in front of one of the windows, lid closed as if no one had played it in a while. And upon further inspection, Percival realized that ‘a while’ might have been an understatement. It may have looked polished and prim from the outside, but there was a thick layer of dust on the keys as well as the bench and not to mention that the wood seemed to have been chipped in places. Honestly, despite the dust and chips in the wood, it was beautiful. Alluring. He felt drawn to its aged and yellowing keys, to its hauntingly dark surface. And he wanted to play it. Badly.

 

His fingers brushed the dust off the keys and patted the bench before sitting down and then hesitantly testing a few notes. Satisfied that all off the keys, and he meant all of them, were still working he began to play a few songs he still remembered. He hadn't played a piano in a very long time, though he used to do it a lot at his family’s old estate, mostly for parties or whenever his mother asked him to. Whether it be from the stress of his auror job or the fact that he couldn't possibly fit one in his apartment, he stopped playing when he moved to New York.

 

Soon a thousand memories came flooding back to him, some from his childhood, some from his Ilvermorny years, others of the Christmases he’d spent with his family, of the massive balls they threw every year that, in recent years, he could no longer attend. The music, the dances, the champagne, the people, they all just seemed to play through his mind with every note he strikes. The memories wrapped themselves around him, suffocating him, drowning him, until it almost felt as if he were reliving them one by one. The pain of seeing his grandfather die, the joy he felt playing with his siblings, the love he once felt for Theseus and the heartbreak that came when he found out Theseus got engaged. And what was worse, he didn't think he could stop.

 

Like he didn't want to stop.

______

 

Gellert knew something was wrong the moment he heard the piano playing from its corner. That accursed thing was the bane of his existence. He couldn't get rid of it, what with it being enchanted with so much dark magic that it was virtually indestructible and anyone who laid a hand on it would almost immediately fall into its trap. His ancestors might have thought it a clever trick to use on any unwanted house guest, what with the piano's elegant and tempting allure and its ability to make someone relive their most powerful memories. Unfortunately, what it actually did to the people who played it in such a manner was a fate even he wouldn't wish on his worst enemies.

 

So of course, after briskly exiting the kitchen and plating the venison racks on the table, he sprinted towards a now struggling Graves who was feverishly punching out notes on the keyboard. Now, he knew Graves was a smart man who should’ve seen the dust on the keys and on the bench and all the nicks in the wood, and taken them as a sign no one has played the thing in a very long time. He should have seen the tiny specks of dried blood on the keys. The stench of decay on the wood. The dark magic that was reflected on its surface. In retrospect, perhaps Gellert should have covered the thing in a sheet because what he saw only confirmed his worst fear. Graves had his eyes closed, eye brows crossed, and lips drawn into a thin line whilst his fingers-

 

“ _Excommunicare tenebris_!” he shouted as the shadows that had begun to encompass Graves’s fingers receded back into the keyboard. Wand in hand, Gellert began to silence the keys by carefully opening the piano’s lid and forcing all the dampers back down on the strings, effectively muting most except for the keys Graves kept pressing.

 

“Graves! Can you hear me?!”, evidently not because the man in question continued to play anyway. “Director! Remember where you are, who you are, don't let the shadows suffocate your mind! Fight it Graves, fight it!”

 

The music got louder, but he could see the recognition building in Graves’s eyes as they opened and as soon as it began to slow, which he then took as a sign that Graves was coming to his senses. With one last burst of strength he slammed all the dampers down the keys and the piano lid before dragging Graves off the bench and away from the cursed object. He held the man by his shoulders, panting from the all that effort, and watched as the light slowly faded back into Graves’s eyes.

 

“Grindelwald….” he finally murmured as Gellert slowly began to move them towards the dining table. “W-what just happened? My head’s spinning, did I fall or something?”

 

“Well, you could say that. You fell into a trap set by my predecessors on the piano, which basically tried to eat you whilst force feeding all your memories back into your head”

 

“Oh…”

 

He guided them both into their chairs and each grabbed a piece of rack onto their plates. Graves glanced at him as he said “And you…you stopped it, why?”

 

“Why not?” Gellert asked back as he slowly chewed on his venison. “Even you don't deserve death by piano Mister Graves. Besides, we’re both on holiday, and cleaning out blood and organs from that thing is not how I plan to spend my Christmas”

 

As they gradually devoured the racks one by one, he heard Graves mutter a subtle “Thank You” before once again asking him what the tome and parchments were for, without the sarcasm this time.

 

“I’m trying to fix the wards around the house,” he said as he began to collect their plates off the table. “I admit the damage your sudden arrival caused was quite extensive, it may be a while until I can get them back to their full strength”

 

“Well it certainly did feel like I was breaking a few walls when I apparated onto your porch” Graves mussed. “But all jokes aside, I want to help. I’d hate to just sit here while you're out busting your ass off fixing what I broke,” even though you did the same to me, “and I wanted to thank you for letting me stay and, well, not trying to kill me”

 

It was Gellert's turn to laugh then. “Careful now Mister Graves, the piano might hear you. And of course you can help, as long as you don't mind all the dark magic we have to use” He turned slightly to glance at the window. There was still some time before sundown, which meant that they could go for another round and hopefully make it back before nightfall.

 

“I don't mind dark magic, I work with it constantly. After all I am an auror”, Graves followed Gellert’s gaze to the window. “I’m just worried about the weather. I hadn't really packed a lot of warm clothes for this trip”

 

“Oh that’s fine,” Gellert said as he made his way to the kitchen door. “It’s cold, yes, but I’ll lend you some of my sweaters for the time being Mister Graves. All of them have heating charms, don't worry”

 

“Thanks. And don't call me ‘Mister Graves’ all the time, we’re on holiday remember?”

 

“So what do you suggest I call you then, Director?”

 

“Percival. Just Percival, no titles, no formalities”

 

“Alright, but to make things fair you’ll have to call me Gellert and not Grindelwald”

 

“Done”

 

“Good”

_______

 

Gellert Grindelwald is a very odd man. Percival came to that conclusion after that first night, or fourth really, when they headed out into the forest to fix the wards. The first, though not surprising, is that he talks to his dog as if he were an actual person. Granted Percival has had his share of animal madness with the many pets he had as a child (there was this one particular kneazle he was rather fond of), but never to the extent of actually having a full blown argument with them on which direction to take and when. Which was what Gellert had when Pongo decided he wanted to go south.

 

“For the last time, if we go south we’ll never be home in time for diner and if the sky is any indication, we’ll all be half frozen by the time we get there!”

 

Pongo, who didn't look even the least bit intimidated by his master’s outburst, unlike Percival, who flinched, merely donned a look of complete boredom at his words. This made Gellert even more annoyed.

 

“Don't believe me? Fine, go south and freeze to death, the wards over there aren’t strong enough to keep all the little beasties out so good luck spending the night over there”

 

Pongo barks his dismay and growls, nose still pointing south.

 

“What do you mean ‘that's the point’? Look, with all due respect to your superior canine instincts but the objective right now is to check on the wards we’ve already mended and that's it. No, we are not going on a beast hunt if that's what you’re thinking”

 

And with that Gellert trudges on through the snow leaving Percival to try and catch up with him and Pongo to brood all the way in the back. They had checked on those wards Gellert mentioned, mostly to see if they held up and to strengthen them a bit more, and by the time the argument had taken place Percival had noticed the sky turning a dark shade of blue. When their expeditions became more frequent with each passing day, the arguments seemed to as well, to the point where Percival had to give the final vote on most things ranging from directions to departure time. And what was miraculous to him was that they managed to fix almost half of the wards that week.

 

But Gellert's many arguments with his dog were the least of Percival's concerns. After the piano incident, Gellert had taken to briefing Percival on what was safe and what was ‘life threatening’ within the house, which he found that most of the latter was in the study. The study, a large and spacious room next to the kitchen, lined with bookshelves and books not unlike those he’d seen in local libraries in New York. Unfortunately for him, most of those books contained very powerful dark magic and cursed spells that made the piano look like a child’s toy. Though Gellert comforted him by saying that those books were marked and seperate from the ones that were actually safe, it didn't help when he also said the shelves sometimes had a mind of their own.

 

Though that might have been the case, Gellert spent most of his time in the study, as Percival often noted, presumably looking for better spells to enhance the wards around his house. Even so, every evening when they weren’t out fixing the wards, he’d invite Percival to sit with him by the fire and read whilst also serving them both a cup of hot chocolate. And that was another thing Percival had the delight of discovering.

 

He had no idea what the man did to achieve such a rich and fine taste, but Percival had never tasted anything as good as Gellert Grindelwald’s hot chocolate that was often topped with whipped cream just for him.

 

“You need more sweetness in your life Percival” he said to him once as Pongo dozed by Percival's bare feet. “Your job requires you to be so bitter all the time, just like the coffee you always seem to be drinking”

 

“Coffee isn't poison and it gets the job done, and it's better than any performance enhancing potion in the world”

 

“But you have to admit, my hot chocolate is better than coffee Percival”

 

And indeed it was, much like everything else Gellert made for him. Every meal was like a culinary paradise for his tongue. Every sip of wine, every stew, every slice of meat was like a sudden lifting of weight off his shoulders, as if the rest of the world did not matter beyond whatever was on his plate at the moment. Dinner was always something to look forward to. When they’d return from their little adventures tired and weary, Gellert somehow musters up the energy to cook something absolutely delicious. And everytime, it was always something different. That first week they had everything from venison shanks to swedish meatballs, then Gellert started going Italian with lasagna all the way to linguini with clam sauce of all things. Breakfast and lunch weren’t too far behind though, in fact those meals were even more varied. If it weren't for their almost daily rounds around the house and parts of the mountain Percival was sure he must've gained a pound or two at how much Gellert was feeding him.

 

“The way to a person’s heart is through their stomach Percival” as Gellert often says.

 

But despite all that, his food, his dog, his reading habits, his house that Percival was certain had eyes and was watching their every move, those weren't the most surprising things Percival had experienced with the peculiar man known as Gellert Grindelwald. No, those had been the tip of the proverbial iceberg.

 

What made Percival so confused during the days leading up to Christmas and made him question his own perspective on humanity was Gellert’s demeanor throughout his stay with the other man. This dark revolutionary, the supposed most feared man in the wizarding world, was perhaps the kindest host Percival had ever met. A genuinely caring and polite man. In the way he treats his dog, his determination in fixing his house’s wards, his almost friendly and calm demeanor towards Percival, who mere months ago was his sworn enemy beside MACUSA.

 

It made Percival think. It was like Gellert and Grindelwald were two seperate people, where one was gentle, kind and loving, the other was harsh, charismatic, and war born. And it made him wonder if it was Grindelwald that his followers saw every other day of the year, if the mask of the dark revolutionary was all they saw of him and that Percival had gotten lucky enough to see both sides of the coin.

 

Until once again, he was proven wrong.

 

One morning, a few days before Christmas Eve, he catches Gellert sitting on the couch in front of the fireplace, knitting. He doesn't notice it at first, eyes still drowsy from sleep, instead he walks over to the dining table with a glass of water in one hand and a book in the other. He finished the book last night and intended to hand it back over to Gellert that morning.

 

As he sat at the table, he hears a slight humming from the fireplace along with the sound of paper scrunching and folding in on itself. Both noises were almost rhythmic, a subtle and almost unnoticed rhythm in the way the paper and humming fell in sync with one another. And if it weren't accompanied by Pongo’s terrible snoring, it might have even lulled Percival back to sleep.

 

When he finally gets up and walks to the fireplace, still rubbing the sleep off his face, he stops just behind the couch and does a double take. Sweaters. And scarves, and socks and mittens too, all being wrapped into nice little red and green packages via magic. There was a quill writing down names and addresses onto little decorative cards and tying them to the wrappings with golden thread. And then there was Gellert overseeing it all, happily knitting a festive green sweater in his hands all the while Pongo dozed and drooled on the carpet by his feet

 

“What are you doing?”, and all of the sudden they all just stopped at the question. “What are all these for? Who are they for?”

 

There was a silence, albeit a short one, but he noticed Gellert tensing before finally turning to face him. His expression was one Percival couldn't name. “These are presents. For my followers. I do this every year for them as a ‘Thank You’ for their service”

 

“And you what? Hand knit every single one of these for them? Why? Why go through all the trouble?”

 

“Well yes as a matter of fact, I do and I don't mind either. See, Percival, some of them don't have families, some of them are outcast who aren’t allowed to live peacefully within our society, and those who aren’t are often forced to wear a mask of indifference to their families who are. Some of them are like you, with jobs that take too much from them. Some of them don’t have jobs at all and follow me out of hope for a better future. And while they are forced to await the outcome of my cause, I give them a reminder that I’m not some heartless dictator who wants them solely for their labour.

 

“I remind them that I’m human, and that I care about them”, he then turns back to his knitting and the quill and wrappers and strings began their work again. “Because for some reason most people think I’m not”

 

For a long time Percival just stares, wide awake, and processes the words Gellert just said in his head. Then, with a softer tone, he says; “Who taught you how to knit?”

 

“An old friend,” Gellert says, almost mournfully and then chuckles. “Though he doesn't consider me a friend anymore”

 

“Why not?”, and when Gellert doesn't answer, Percival goes around the couch and then sits beside him on it, watching a pair of socks get wrestled into their scarlet wrappings. “Can I help?”

 

When he turns to look at his host the other man’s eyes have brightened just a bit, clearly considering Percival’s offer. But then he shakes his head. “No, I’m afraid not. Wouldn't want you learning their names and addresses. But I suppose……you could help me wrap them?”

 

And that was how Percival Graves, MACUSA's Director of Magical Security, ended up wrapping over a hundred knitted sweaters, socks, and mittens all the while watching Gellert Grindelwald knit more of them until he decided they were enough and then went to decorate the cards. Pongo joined them not long after, though Percival was sure the dog was still half asleep as he marked all the cards in green ink with his paws. That morning the three of them managed to wrap up all the presents and cards and even had some time to relax and chat before having lunch, which was strudel this time, baked to perfection, and setting off on their last round around the mountain.

 

In all honesty, Percival admitted that he once hated Gellert with all his heart. But now he didn't know if it was possible to hate a man as peculiar as Gellert Grindelwald. And really, he didn't want to.

_______

 

Humanity was fickle. They chose what they wanted to see in each other, and what they saw often dictated how they would act around one another. And Gellert knew, oh how he knew that society viewed him as a monster, a cruel and demented anarchist that wanted to tear their livelihoods apart and turn their cities to dust and ruin. Even some of his followers thought this, the ones who follow him out of spite and hatred alone. And they feared him, as a dictator should be feared.

 

But the ones who follow him out of hope, a thirst for change, or well meaning curiosity and passion…….he let's those people see a different man. A man who cares, who does things scarcely out of manipulation, but out of compassion. A man who sends them Christmas gifts every year, out of thanks and gratitude for their loyalty and devotion.

 

He knew Percival thought him a criminal mastermind, a fiend, when he first arrived. He knew that MACUSA's Director of Magical Security only came to him out of spite and need of escape from his overtaxing job. He knew what the other man expected to see and despite his better judgment…..decided to prove him wrong. Gellert let him stay, let him eat his food, share his house, help him fix it all the while slowly letting Percival peak into that other side of him, the softer side, without jeopardizing too much.

 

But he knew what the Director actually still thought of him. It was evident in the way he sounded when he asked Gellert why he would send his followers presents. Why he would waste time knitting and wrapping them. It was a fair question, one he was prepared to answer, but…

 

It hurt him. It genuinely hurt him.

 

Sometimes he wanted to scream. Sometimes he genuinely wanted the world to stop viewing him as a monster, to stop forgetting that he was a living, breathing human being with a heart. Sometimes he wanted to smile without smugness, to laugh without it sounding like mockery or madness. And the day he would be truly granted that luxury is a day he knew would never come.

 

And yet……something changed. It started that very same day, when Percival offered to help with the presents, and of course for the sake of confidentiality, Gellert told him to only wrap them. But then they started talking and laughing about something Gellert couldn't remember, probably Pongo's snoring or Percival's job, and for some reason, he saw that Percival's view on him began to change. As if a blind were lifted between them, and suddenly Gellert could read the other man’s thoughts (no not literally) and could see through the snark and the sarcasm. Suddenly Percival's eyes weren't so harsh on him anymore. They felt warm and welcoming.

 

After that day, they spent what little time they had left together. The wards were all patched up and fixed, presents wrapped and ready to be owled away to their recipients, all though he knew he was going to have to hand deliver some himself. He began to seek Percival's company more frequently, not just their afternoon reading sessions and small walks outside the house. He began inviting the other man into his kitchen, teaching him how to cook the meals he was so fond of. He wasn't surprised to learn Percival was a fast learner and that night they both cooked dinner in their own special way, with Pongo being the judge of taste and compatibility.

 

And Gellert also noticed that Percival and Pongo were getting along better with each other, his dog being far less aloof and aggressive when the other man was around. It was refreshing to see Pongo hug someone else's foot once and a while, and he could see that Percival didn't mind it either.

 

That was days ago, and now with two days left till Christmas Eve, he had to mail all those presents as fast as he can. Some of his followers’ owls had already arrived days before and taken their respective packages, others he owled the day he finished wrapping them with the help of Schnell, his slightly moody barn owl. But of course, they weren't enough, so he had to go and deliver the rest of the presents himself.

 

That morning he left, leaving a note on the dining table for Percival detailing where he was going and how long he’d be gone. Gellert estimated, if he hurried and went without Pongo, that he’d be back by Christmas morning. Portkeys were a very useful thing to have when he wanted fast travel, so of course he’d prepared them beforehand. And if his apparation skills were anything to go by, he should be able to deliver all the gifts in time.

 

Sometimes he felt like Father Christmas when he did this, and perhaps to his followers, he was in some aspects. But he didn't care, as long as they were happy.

 

He left the house with great caution, making sure not to wake either Pongo nor Percival. He was sure the later could take care of both of them. He whispered a silent order into the walls of the house, something he did whenever he had to leave it for a time, and then he left, walking out into darkness before dawn light.

 

_____

 

When Percival found the note, he thought nothing of it. Gellert would only be gone for three days, there was nothing to worry about. He was a dark wizard. He could take care of himself.

 

He could take care of himself.

 

A heavy feeling weighed down on his chest as he made breakfast. The kitchen just didn't feel right without Gellert there, laughing and smiling, guiding and telling him which spices go on what dish. Percival was a fast learner and of course he’d had a few experiences with cooking in the past. He made a simple breakfast, nothing too extravagant, compared to what Gellert always made for them.

 

He was eating said breakfast at the table when he noticed Pongo sitting by the front door. Thinking the dog probably wanted to go outside, to do his business or hunt maybe, he walked all the way over to him and opened the door. But to Percival's surprise, Pongo just stared. He tilted his head a little and whined at the door before turning to Percival. In all of his years working with MACUSA, Percival scarcely got to deal with animals. But when he did it was always during murder cases where the victim left a beloved pet behind and those pets would mourn their masters in ways that would put most humans to shame.

 

But the look Pongo gave him was worse. It was way worse.

 

“He’ll only be gone for three days boy” he said as he closed the door and soothed the dog’s fur. “Three days, that’s all, and when he gets back we’ll all have a nice little outing with lots of food and treats and presents. Okay Pongo?”

 

The dog doesn't look at him and just continues to stare at the door. He gives up as soon as Percival walks back to the table, following him with his head and tail down and then lays his head on Percival's lap as he finishes his breakfast. Percival gives him a piece of sausage meat whilst simultaneously petting his head.

 

He wonders why Pongo was acting like this. He knew for a fact and because Gellert had told him himself that normally, for most of the year when it wasn't the holidays, Pongo stayed with one of Gellert's most trusted generals and only got to spend time with him when the holidays came around. It was odd, in Percival’s eyes, for a dog who was used to not seeing his master to suddenly mourn and miss said master’s company in such a way.

 

The two if them spent the rest of that day reading, napping, and eating in each other’s company, both hoping for the same thing. That Gellert was safe and that he’d come home soon. Percival went to bed that night with an odd feeling in his chest.

 

The very next day, Percival decided he’d do something productive. He walked around the house and feels the house watching him, Pongo at his heels, exploring the places and rooms he hadn't gotten to yet or hadn't really taken interest to. The first place he went to look was the study, which he was warned to take caution in by Gellert. There wasn't much, just a large desk with locked drawers, an armchair behind it, and of course the giant bookshelves with thousands of books of all sizes. It helped that Pongo was there to guide him, to steer him away from the forbidden shelves with all the more dangerous books. They spent hours just walking around between the shelves, looking at the books in a very cautious manner.

 

Next was the second floor. There were four other rooms on the right wing, with Gellert's bedroom, locked of course, being at the very end of the partial hall. There were two other guest rooms, which made Percival wonder why Gellert had placed him on the opposite wing if there were two closer to his room, and a smaller room with posters and newspaper clippings that Percival could only assume was the second study or perhaps even Gellert's private office .

 

The room was a bit messy and pale in comparison to the one downstairs. There was a map framed on one of the walls, little notes pinned to it and connected with red yarn, with some parts marked and others blotted out. There were papers stacked on either side of a semi large wooden desk, but apparently Gellert had cast a concealment charm on them so Percival couldn't read the words. The drawers in the desk were also locked and the only things on the desk itself were more blank parchment, a bottle of ink, a quill, and what looked to be a box of photos.

 

Most of the photos had moving pictures, though oddly some didn't. Most of them were of a boy and a girl, whom Percival presumed to be a brother and sister pair, while others had an older man and woman with them. In one of the larger pictures, he could see they were all lined up, the boy next to the woman and the girl beside the man who was sandwiched between them. They were a family. Percival wondered why Gellert would have photos of these random people, why there were so many.

 

Until he got a closer look at the young boy’s eyes. His mismatched blue-brown eyes. This was him, this was Gellert Grindelwald. This boy, smiling happily with his long blond curls, laughing with this girl, his sister, standing beside his blue-eyed mother and father, was now the world's most feared dark wizard? Percival almost couldn't believe it.

 

But all semblance of doubt was erased from his mind as Pongo walked into the room. He showed the dog a photo of the boy, and Pongo immediately leaped for joy. This was his master, this was Gellert.

 

He took that particular photo with him as he and Pongo made their way through the hall, closing the door to the room behind them, clutching the thing all the way down the staircase and to the fireplace. He hands the photo to Pongo once he settles down on the couch, and the dog immediately begins to sniff and snuggle it. He wonders how the dog even recognizes the boy in the picture as Gellert. They looked so different, as if the years had hardened that beautiful, smiling boy into the enigmatic and peculiar man Percival knew now. His eyes are the only things that haven’t changed, even his hair and skin were paler that the boy’s golden lockes and fair face. Shorter too.

 

Or perhaps that man had been there all along, hiding his wit and cleverness in the handsome boy’s smile and draping curls. Perhaps Pongo just likes the picture because it smells like Gellert, his master's scent being the only thing that makes it so appealing to him. After all, dogs couldn't see colours but they could smell lunch from a mile away.

 

Percival decides to simply ask Gellert about it later when he comes home and has the chance to bring it up, preferably at dinner, when they were relaxed and Gellert well rested. As he starts to doze off on the couch, he wonders how the other man was doing, if he’d successfully managed to deliver all the presents.

 

He doesn't get his answer till days later. It was past Christmas Day, heck, it was two days past Christmas Day, and by then both Percival and Pongo were already at their breaking point. Two days. It should have been nothing, they should’ve just stayed calm and waited. Instead, Pongo grew frantic and Percival grew even more worried. Pongo started sleeping by the front door, Percival took the couch. Pongo starts clawing at the door, Percival fidgets and can't even hold a book right.

 

They shouldn’t have been this worried. Gellert was a dark wizard, he could take care of himself. Maybe he had a delay and something came up. Perhaps one of his followers wanted him stay a while. But he would've told them, sent a letter or something to assure them he was alright. Percival doesn't even know why he’s this worried about a man who could take down MACUSA with his bare hands and not so long ago had been his enemy.

 

And yet, when he hears two faint knocks on the door, sees Pongo in a frenzy to try and open it himself, he sprints to the door and swings it open, ready yell at Gellert for making them wait so long and-

 

Oh no.

 

_______

 

Gellert was a very smart man. After all, one had to be smart to outwit ones many enemies, and Gellert had many enemies.

 

He had gone on this trip well prepared, although he didn't exactly bring the elder wand, his own should have sufficed along with his skill at dueling and his knowledge of hand to hand combat if needed.

 

And yet…

 

It was Christmas Eve and he was at his last stop, the house of one of his favorite followers, Laurence du Maurier. The aptly named ‘Butcher of Florence’ by most of the people who knew him, including Gellert, who knew him far too well. Laurence was not what most would call a normal wizard, in fact, most people would mistaken him for a squib due to the fact that he almost never does magic.

 

But the people who knew the ‘Butcher’ knew a different story. Laurence could do magic, and Gellert once praised him for doing it far better than others. No, he simply couldn't control his magic. He had a wand but it was seldom used, his magic detested in being used in any way that didn't involve killing people. It was like it had a mind of its own and an insatiable taste for blood.

 

The French Ministry was quick to isolate him from a young age, told him he could never have a real job and that if he couldn't hide his magic from muggles, he’d be sent to Azkaban for endangering the Statute of Secrecy. And it was his spite for them that lead him to become a surgeon after he left school, and sooner or later lead him to a young Gellert who welcomed him into the cause with open arms.

 

And Gellert was forever thankful for their friendship, otherwise he would never have survived what came for him that night.

 

It was late, the sky was a beautiful ocean blue fading to dark as the sun had set a good half of an hour ago. Laurence had invited him out to Christmas dinner, since neither of them had any other company to spend the night with. He had arranged for Gellert's portkey to bring him back to the mansion tomorrow, just in time for Christmas Morning, giving him just enough time to rest for the night.

 

As they were exiting the restaurant, out the back alley way so as not to attract any unwanted attention, whether it was from paranoia or simply too much experience getting followed from behind by aurors or even bounty hunters for that matter, Gellert stopped for a second and listened for a noise that he might have missed when they stepped outside. And that was his first mistake.

 

Apparently, him stopping before they could apparate was exactly what his hidden attacker was waiting for. Not even a second had passed since he turned around and suddenly something was tearing strait into his shoulder, causing him to fall off balance and hit the ground.

 

“Gellert!” he heard Laurence scream as he reached for his wand within his coat jacket, rolling over to the side a bit so he could reach it. That was his second mistake as the second arrow tore into his right side causing him to gasp a little before inevitably tasting copper in his mouth.

 

He felt a slight pulse in the wound as Laurence haphazardly apparated then both back to his flat. He was practically a ragdoll, limp and sagging as Laurence carefully brought him to the kitchen and laying him flat on the table, clearing it of everything that was previously decorating it.

 

Gellert vaguely remembers what happens next. Laurence carefully pulling out the barbed arrows, stripping him of most of his clothes before forcing some sort of liquid down his throat, possibly a potion, which made him drowsy. Which was a good thing, otherwise he would have been painfully aware of the other man stitching his organs back together, though not with his hands but with an enchanted needle, mending his cracked shoulder blade, and then carefully stitching the skin closed.

 

It was hours before the entire procedure was done, and even then his anesthetics began to wear out, which lead him to be all too aware of all the blood he’s lost. His head in a daze, Gellert was sure he looked like a dead body in a morgue. He could see the stitches in his side, Laurence’s surgical equipment cover in his blood, along with the table and the other man’s hands up to his elbows.

 

“You’re going to be fine Gellert” he said, in his not-too-French-and-yet-still-French accent, as he forced Gellert to sit up and started wrapping thick bandages around his middle. “Though you’ve lost a lot of blood, your magic should be healing your bones and insides as we speak. You are not going to die”

 

“You say that as if I’m worried,” Gellert chuckles as the other man moves to his shoulder. “You know me, Laurence. I’ll greet death like an old friend when I see him, though I must admit, I’ll need to finish this cause before I do”

 

“And I am in no rush to deliver you to him. You are young, Gellert, and young stags do not deserve to be shot before their time is over. Whereas old wolves like me, we hunt and slaughter, but sometimes our prey fight back and we end up being the ones to be eaten by crows”

 

“Ah Laurence, always with the metaphors. But I’m not so young anymore, and death seems to loom over me wherever I go”

 

Laurence says nothing as they carefully maneuver Gellert back to the guest bedroom. After a bit of uneasy squirming into a more comfortable position, Gellert finally lies back on the pillows and warm sheets. Laurence leaves him in his solitude, and as his body recovers from the bleeding and impromptu surgery, his mind begins to drift elsewhere.

 

He thinks of Pongo, probably wondering where his master was, driving poor Percival off the wall with all his whining maybe. He normally brought Pongo with him on trips like this, and perhaps he could have avoided his injuries had he brought his canine companion with him. His friend’s hearing would have alerted him to any danger. Or perhaps he should have brought Percival? The other man was an auror and a very experienced one to boot. But then again, he still wasn't sure where the Director stood, he would have compromised the identities of his followers if Percival came with him.

 

As sleep starts to envelope him, his thoughts wander closer and closer to Percival. He wonders how they're doing at the house, wonders if the silent order he whispered into the walls had been fulfilled. The order was for the house to remain passive while he was gone, to make sure nothing harmed his guest while he wasn't around, and also to keep the house from repeating what happened with the piano. He wanted Percival to remain safe after all, he didn't think he could bear coming home to find the Director’s corpse on the floor or in the bookshelves slotted between the books in a bloody mess.

 

It was strange. Gellert was so used to caring for his followers, sometimes complete strangers who turned out to be his best friends. But caring for Percival…..it felt different. Taking the Director's face, imprisoning him unconscious in his own home, sifting through his mind, those had been easy things, mundane things he did all the time on missions for the sake of his cause. But actually caring for him, interacting with him on even grounds, seeing him everyday, talking with him, cooking with him, those had been nerve racking. It was as if every time he saw the man, something deep within his broken and decaying heart leaps for joy and he feels warm and calm inside.

 

It was an odd feeling, one he hadn't felt in over a decade. One he thought his heart couldn't possibly feel again after…Albus.

 

He wakes up the next day feeling better, though his sides still ached far too much to feel comfort. Laurence appears much later, looking like an over satisfied cat as he hands Gellert a bowl of soup and a potion. Gellert takes one look at the soup, specifically at the delicately sliced cubes of meat floating amongst the vegetables, and smiles.

 

“So you caught him?”

 

“Yes, though he was a bit difficult to track,” the other man says as he helps Gellert sit up. “You won't believe my luck though. I found him in a pub, drinking like a pig, he didn't even see me coming”

 

“An assassin who can't hold his liquor? That's a first”, he sips the soup and takes a bite out of a cube. “Did you find out who hired him?”

 

“No, and I can't read minds like you can, so I couldn't pull it out of him either. Perhaps if I had tortured him first, he would have been more compliant. But I got impatient, and as you could say, careless. I had you on my mind when I was chopping him up though, and luckily his flesh was in good condition, otherwise that soup would be as good as poison for you”

 

“Always so considerate aren't you Laurence”

 

And he was. He was very considerate and caring when it came to Gellert, almost like a demented older brother. As Gellert began to heal through the day, he was all too aware of what day it was. Laurence assured him that the portkey that was to transport him home was moved to two days later, of which by then Gellert had already healed a considerable amount, which only left the stitching to be dealt with once he was back at the mansion.

 

On the second day after Christmas Day, Gellert prepares to make his trip back home, much to Laurence’s chagrin.

 

“Are you sure you don't want me to come with you? Those stitches could break out at any moment, so don't strain yourself”

 

“Of course old friend, of course” he says as he inches towards the portkey, an empty wine bottle, his duffle bag filled with clothes at his side. “There's no need to come with me Laurence, you still have a lot to do here, and I wouldn't want to interrupt your duties any longer”

 

“Very well, Gellert. Merry Christmas old friend, and send my regards to your Percival”

 

“I will, Laurence. Merry Christmas”

 

He takes the portkey in his hands and a familiar pulling sensation envelopes his middle as the world around him began to spin. He feels the snow and cold on his face within seconds of arriving, the sky a calm orange hue. The sun was setting, and perhaps if he hurried, he could make it in time to make dinner for Percival and Pongo. He was sure that would make an acceptable apology for missing Christmas and making them worry.

 

He trudges through the snow and up the mountain with purpose, and a few things crossed his mind. Like what Laurence said before he left, the way he phrased his words in such an odd way. Your Percival. Percival wasn't his by any means, his guest and potential friend perhaps but not his, no. It left him a bit flustered. He wonders if Percival could return his feelings, if only a little bit. It wouldn't hurt to hope and-

 

Then he felt it. The tearing of skin at his side, something wet and very cold seeping into his shirt and suit jacket. The stitches. He curses himself. How could he have been so careless? After Laurence had told him to be careful. He must have pulled them when he was practically jogging up the mountain. He knows he’s already lost too much blood the first time, and at this rate he could stand a chance to lose all of it.

 

He has no time. He decides to apparate, as risky as it may be.

 

The wards don't put up a fight, the house knows its master is in need and badly wounded. In fact, Gellert feels no resistance at all, as if he were apparating normally through an empty field rather than a sea of wards. Perhaps his house knows him too well, perhaps it smells and taste the blood on him.

 

When he gets to the poarch the blood soaking into his clothes was already starting to freeze and chill, which was not good. He stumbles a little towards the door, holding the knocker for support. For some reason his knees get weak, as if they just couldn't deal with his weight anymore, and he just sags sliding down the door. Hand hanging limp on the knocker, he knocks it twice before his hand falls and slips to his right side, trying to stop the blood from flowing. He feels so helpless. So cold and helpless, all his energy sapped from him along with his blood.

 

He hears Pongo barking from the other side, and when the door opens, is immediately greeted by him. He knew Pongo smelled the blood soaked into his white shirt and grey suit jacket, and he knows his friend is worried for him. But what breaks him is the look on Percival's face when the other man looms above him. Shock mixed with confusion, pain, and anger. Gellert knows that look. He wears it every time one of his own followers gets hurt like this, begging him to save them, to make the pain stop. It's odd to see that look on Percival's face, and furthermore it was directed at him of all people. Suddenly he doesn't feel so cold anymore, he feels calm and warm.

 

And from then on he realizes two things.

 

One, tonight he might just die and death would take him away and end him and his cause just like that.

 

Two, he is in love with Percival Graves.

 

______

 

He’s smiling. God dammit, he’s smiling. Of all the times Gellert could look at him like that, it had to be when he was collapsed on the threshold of his own house, blood leaking from his side, pale as the white snow that covered the poarch.

 

“Hello Percy,” he coughs and it's only then that Percival stops staring at him. “Sorry I’m late, got caught up in things”

 

He waste no time getting him through the house and up the stairs, Gellert's shoulder slung over his back to support him, Pongo at their heels, barking and whining up a storm. He has no idea why he remembers to take Gellert's boots off, but he does and they disappear off his feet as they reached the second floor.

 

“Don't die on me, don't die on me, don't die on me….” he murmurs as he glances at Gellert's face, at his beautiful mismatched eyes that were slowly getting duller and duller.

 

As they reached the door, Percival remembers that it’s locked and somehow he also knows Gellert was too tired to find the key. He tries every unlocking spell he knows, even tries kicking it open, but none of it works. But then Gellert puts his hand on the wood, uttering a soft “Please..” akin to the way a dying man would wheeze out his last breath on his deathbed. And it opens.

 

The room is no larger than any of the guest rooms but the bed was slightly bigger and fancier. He lays Gellert on the sheets that immediately come to life, folding themselves aside to accommodate their charge. Black shadow-like tendrils emerge from the headboard and wrap around Gellert's body, stripping him of his upper clothes and revealing the pale, blood stained skin underneath, littered with scars of all kinds. And a bloody, bandaged wound at his side.

 

Percival sees a case underneath the bed and doesn't know why but he lunges for it. Sure enough, there are potions inside and he rummages around for Essence of Dittany or any sort of healing potion in general, just to close the wound and stop the bleeding, but instead he finds-

 

A bottle, labeled _‘Phoenix Tears’._

 

He doesn't know where the bucket of warm water and washcloth come from, but he doesn't care as he begins to tear the bandages off, and once that’s done, gently cleans the wound and surrounding skin with the washcloth. Then he pours a generous amount of phoenix tears into the wound, watching it slowly close on it’s own. He removes what’s left of the stitches very gently, before covering Gellert with the blanket and covers.

 

As the bucket and bloody washcloth disappear off the bed to wherever they came from, Percival stares into the dark wizard's face, now relaxed and peaceful compared to how he was before. He stores the bottle back into the case as Gellert's shallow breaths began to fill the now eerily quiet room. He silently wonders how this could happened, how Gellert could have possibly been wounded so badly. He was a dark wizard, he should have been able to avoid this.

 

He sighs and was just about to leave for the door, deciding he’d rather ask Gellert about it tomorrow, when he stops. Pongo, who had been so quiet the whole time he was cleaning and healing Gellert's wound that he forgot was even here, sat in front of the door and growled at him. Percival was confused for a moment before he realizes what the dog meant. And he was not having it.

 

“Pongo, I can't stay here. Let me out, Gellert needs his rest”

 

The dog doesn't back down, and if it weren't for his massive size, Percival would have pushed him aside. He could have easily just used the imperius curse on him, but he couldn't find it in himself to curse the dog. Instead, he reasoned.

 

“There’s only one bed, Pongo, and Gellert needs all the space he can get. He needs his rest and so do I”

 

Pongo growls again and points his paw to the bed. The look of sheer determination in his eyes told Percival he was fighting a losing battle.

 

“Fine, but if he asks why I’m in his bed when he wakes up, you’re going to have to answer for it”, he sighs one last time as he heads for the bed.

 

Technically, it wouldn’t be so bad if he just slipped in beside Gellert, the other man was already positioned so that he was on one side of the bed, his wounded side facing the edge, leaving the other side unoccupied. It was, in a way, perfect. But that didn't mean it wouldn't still be awkward. The last time Percival had shared a bed with someone, it had been many, many years ago and those were on very different terms.

 

As he slid into the space next to Gellert, he notices a second, yet relatively less alarming wrap of bandages on his left shoulder, which made him even more curious as to how Gellert got these wounds. He also notices the scars. Faint lines marking Gellert's chest and arms, more than Percival could’ve expected a dark wizard to have. But then he remembers that Gellert was a wanted man, an international wizarding criminal, who probably had more enemies than Percival had fingers.

 

He traces his fingers on a long and thick line going across Gellert's arm, and his mind drifts away to much darker places. Percival had scars on himself, that was a given. But not all of those scars were souvenirs of war and battles off the streets of New York. Some were caused by stress, others by self hatred. And as his fingers made their way to Gellert's own, he wonders if the dark wizard had those kinds of scars too. His hands mindlessly migrate to Gellert's own, lacing their fingers together. They feel warm despite being alarmingly pale.

 

They stay like that for a while as Percival wonders why he feels so restless. He was so caught up in his own thoughts that he hadn't realized Gellert's eyes had opened and were trailing his movements. He hadn't realized until he felt the other man squeeze his hand.

 

“What are you doing Director?” Gellert asks and Percival can almost hear the smile in his voice as he says it. Heat rushes to his cheeks as he tries to pull away.

 

“I was, um, I….” he couldn't find the words. Gellert chuckles and lets go.

 

“I suppose I should thank you for saving my life, though I might also have to apologize for making you go through all the trouble. And for making you share a bed with me”

 

“Yeah, well I don't mind,” he tries to look away, to look anywhere but into Gellert's eyes. “But you could start by explaining how you got those wounds”

 

And he does. He tells Percival how he got shot by barbed arrows (“Thankfully not poisoned though, I might not be here if they were”) and how basically his friend and surgeon had to stitch his organs and skin back together, bones too (“Why not use phoenix tears or dittany to close the wound?” “I think Laurence ran out of stock”). Though the part where he mentions that this surgeon was also a cannibal threw Percival a little off and sent shivers up his spine, Gellert laughed a little before it grew into a vicious fit of coughing.

 

“You should rest” he says and Gellert looks at him in surprise. And then he smiles, again.

 

“So should you. Don't worry, death doesn't want me yet. Whenever I’m at his door, he keeps sending me away. I don't think he wants to see me”

 

And yet he still worries.

 

_______

 

The next two days came to pass too quickly in Gellert's eyes, though that might be a good thing.

 

After that night and Gellert came back to his full strength, mildly thanks to the blood replenishing potions he had in his case, things went back to normal. Well, semi normal.Pongo kept his watchful eyes trained on him at all times, worried he might disappear again, and in turn Gellert makes his meals extra special as an apology for his troubles. Percival makes an effort to keep him company in the kitchen and in the study, where they sit side by side on the carpeted floors reading.

 

They don't speak of the night they shared a bed together, Pongo joining them half way through the night. When they woke up, Percival was sandwiched between Gellert and Pongo, their arms wrapped around each other’s chest and their faces mere inches apart. It made for a very awkward morning, but one they laughed off at breakfast. Even though it had diminished any tension left between them, neither wanted to be reminded of their equally flushed faces and the tangle of limbs they found themselves in. Or the hardness in each other’s pants that was hard to ignore.

 

As the New Year approached Gellert decided he wanted to make things up to Percival for missing Christmas. He started going through old recipe books and notes, trying to find the perfect things to serve for a perfect New Year’s dinner. He thought of inviting Laurence too, but decided against it. Percival wasn't ready to meet the infamous ‘Butcher of Florence’ yet. Though that didn't stop him from owling the Butcher, asking what dishes would be best served for the occasion.

 

In the time between waiting for Laurence and planning the actual dinner, Gellert makes an effort to get to know Percival a little more, tries to learn his taste, on the man’s own terms and not his. Within the weeks prior he had already learned Percival liked books that had to do with history and lineage, which he revealed was because of his odd fascination with blood status and family history. He knew Percival liked foods with soft palettes, not too spicy, but he also liked sweets and pastries too, and his favorite were gingerbread cookies. His favorite colour was emerald green and his family had countless pieces of jewelry and ornaments with that particular gem on them. His favorite season was winter because not a lot of criminals were active during the cold, though sadly he couldn't really stand being in cold weather for too long. Gellert soon learns Percival had a brother and sister, that his father was an auror, that his whole family had worked in at least one branch of MACUSA.

 

“And what happened to them, your brother and sister?” Gellert asked as they were peacefully lounging on the couch. “I didn't hear about them when I was there, Piquery certainly never mentioned them”

 

“That figures, most of the department knows not to mention them when I’m around”. Percival nonchalantly flips the next page of his book. “They both died before I became Director. Gale was tortured to death by a serial killer, they found his body tied up in a tree, and Vivian was shot in the head by a muggle during a warehouse raid. They were in two different states so I couldn't be there for them. Seraphina knows better than to mention it”

 

“Oh…”, and Gellert tries not be reminded of his own sister, whose fate was a mystery even to him.

 

“So, um, what about your family?”, Percival looks up from his book to gaze right at him. “I saw a couple of photos of them in your office. They don't live in this house so…..where are they?”

 

Gellert was well aware Percival had been in his private, though rarely ever locked office upstairs. He knew Percival probably rummaged through his things, though he hadn't expected for the photos to come up.

 

“Well, as you might've guessed, my parents are dead. They died several years after I went to travel the world for my cause, granted they disowned me first and never wanted to see me again. Left me the house in their will since I was their eldest child. As for my sister……..”

 

Gellert doesn't know why, but he can't say it. He can't say he doesn't know where Gabrielle was, if she was dead, if she’d simply disappeared and just doesn't want to see him again. He can't even begin to explain that the only trace of her he’s got is her bastard daughter, whose father was the German liaison to the British Ministry. He couldn't possibly explain that mess in a way Percival could understand. So instead, he shakes his head and says; “I haven’t seen her in more than ten years. And frankly she doesn't want to see me”

 

And they leave it at that, until Percival asks again. “But don't you have other relatives? Any aunts or uncles at all?”

 

“As a matter of fact I do have one. An aunt, in Britain, works as a historian. She’s very kind and a bit….eccentric, though everyone in the family is. If it weren't for her my love for history and books might have never evolved and my cause would've been a lot messier”

 

He loves his great-aunt Bathilda, who had given him a place to stay when he had been expelled from Durmstrang and ultimately kicked out by his father. Although it only lasted for one summer. One very passionate, fruitful summer. A very bitter and chaotic summer. He enjoyed her little company all the same.

 

Percival doesn't ask anymore questions about his family, and neither does Gellert. Instead they talk about lighter subjects, like how long he’s had Pongo for (“Three years, it's sad to think he might die in another five, I try to make the best for him”), why there weren't any paintings or portraits in the house(“I burned them all, horrible things, or sent some to my aunt. I hated looking at them, they're repulsive”) and of course, why Percival could feel the walls watching him at times.

 

“How old is this house any way?”

 

Gellert ponders this a little. “Old. It’s been in the family for centuries. My ancestors built it as a safe haven away from the muggles and anything that wanted to hurt them. Why do you think the wards are infused with dark magic? They aren't just there to protect. You're lucky they tasted the magic on you, but if they didn’t taste anything at all, they’d have killed you on the spot the moment you stepped into their field”

 

“Is everything in this house spelled with dark magic? Sometimes, when we’re alone and it’s really quiet, I can hear something pulsing under the floorboards. Like a heartbeat almost, like something is living down there”

 

Gellert chuckles. So he has felt it, Gellert was beginning to wonder if he would. “The house is, in a way, alive Percival. When everything is right, when the wards feel nothing and its master is calm, you can feel and hear its heartbeat. I think you heard it because you helped me fix the wards. The house knows you now and it's showing its gratitude by letting you hear its heart and watching over you”

 

“So it won't try to kill me anymore?”, and he laughs. Soon they're both laughing, and it is a melody Gellert never knew he liked so much until now. Now, as smiles crept on both of their faces, as pure bliss over takes them. And Gellert sees Percival smile and finds he’s addicted to it. He doesn't even realize the other man’s hand on his own.

 

_______

 

He knew there wasn't much time left. New Year’s was coming up, and he dreaded the thought of going back. Back to MACUSA, back to Piquery, his aurors, his job which he had already realized was slowly killing him. Percival didn't want to go back.

 

He didn't.

 

It was better here, with Gellert. Here, in this house, this ‘Hidden Palace’ of total solitude, far away from the harsh world they knew, where Percival could be himself. He could relax, read a book, sleep in, not worry about paperwork or convicts running around the city. He could smile without smugness, he could eat actual food, he could laugh at things that weren't even that funny, he could take hour long baths without worrying he’d be late for something. He was free.

 

And it was that freedom that made him wonder. What if he stayed? What if he joined Gellert's cause instead? It probably wouldn't even be that different, but at least Gellert had some semblance of humanity in him. Gellert didn't care about social standings, or suck up to some snob politician to get what he wants. At least Gellert cared somewhat about his followers and would notice if one of his highest generals was replaced by a mole or was a double agent. Gellert knew what he was fighting for, had a vision for a brighter future. MACUSA was corrupt in ways even Percival regretted.

 

“All governments are corrupt, Percival” Gellert says to him one evening. “There is no real order in politics. Every parliament has its rats”

 

But he also knew that outside of these walls, on everyday that wasn't the holidays, Gellert was a different man. Outside these walls he was Grindelwald, the dark revolutionary of their time, ruthless, cunning, charismatic, manipulative. He was the enemy, the wolf that preyed on every weakness their governments had and exploited them for the greater good of his cause. He knew Grindelwald was not a nice man, he was a cruel man, a vicious man, with a taste for muggle blood. He’s slaughtered thousands with no remorse, with all the elegance of a cat in a field of mice. Grindelwald wouldn't care if Percival died, if he was tortured and beaten to the near edge of his life.

 

But Gellert would. Wouldn't he?

 

In the days after the night, Percival noticed slight changes in Gellert's behavior. Small things. The way his eyes lit up when he sees Percival, how his lips quirk up a bit when Percival enjoys his cooking, the way he sits closer to Percival when they read on the couch or on the floor of the study, the odd questions he kept asking him. Little things, they didn't bother him. In fact, it was the opposite. They intrigued him and he wondered just how much Gellert enjoyed his company, granted it was Percival who decided they should spend more time together in the first place.

 

So he tries something. When Gellert asked him about his family, he told him about his brother and sister, how they died a gruesome death before he became Director, and in turn Gellert opens up about his family, which did shed some light on the photos he found upstairs.Then they get to talking about the house and inevitably he ends up making Gellert laugh. He doesn't know why, but he loves hearing Gellert laugh. His laugh is a series of giggles that pulls the corner of his mouth into a nice big smile. It was goofy, but Percival loves it.

 

And of course, when he laughs he fails to notice Percival laying his hand on top of his. He doesn't notice until he pulls away and blushes a bit as Percival gives him an innocent smile of his own. That tiny reaction was all Percival needed and he wishes he’d done this sooner.

 

He does it again when they're in the kitchen, in which they both reached for the same knife and Percival very intentionally made sure they brush hands. He goes further in the study, this time leaning on Gellert as they sat on the floor, their shoulders touching. That successfully throws the dark wizard off, since they were so used to keeping their distance, though Percival could see through the other man’s attempt to hide his smile and the heat on his face. It was so satisfying to see him like that, to taunt him because it was obvious that he liked Percival. And Percival, though he made sure not to show it too much, liked him too.

 

They danced around like this and it took Percival's mind off of New Year's and MACUSA, the thought of having to face Gellert on the field. Instead those thoughts were replaced by the images of Gellert's smile, his laugh, his cooking, Pongo, and the house that had become his sanctuary within the last month. He didn't want to ever leave. And the realization that Gellert Grindelwald might like him more than he should made it even more tempting to stay.

 

When Percival wakes up late that morning, in his plush, white, four poster bed, he wishes time had just stopped the moment he’d first slept in them. It was the 31st of December, New Year's Eve, and he can't decide whether or not he should just stay in bed or get up and spend the whole day with Gellert and Pongo. He chooses the latter and it takes all his strength to not think about MACUSA. Not yet, that could wait till he was in New York.

 

But when he climbs down the stairs and glances over the railing, he doesn't see Gellert at the dining table waiting for him. In fact, he doesn't see Gellert at all or Pongo either for that matter. It puts him on edge.

 

“Gellert? Pongo?” he calls out into the seemingly empty room. A plate of scrambled eggs and buttered toast was on the table, along with a glass of milk and a note.

 

Don't look for me. Eat.

 

And he suddenly remembers a trait shared by all dark wizards. They are always cryptic, even when you least expect it. Nonetheless Percival does eat, though the food must've been cooked hours ago since it no longer felt warm on his tongue. He wonders where Gellert was and what he was doing, whether or not Pongo was helping him, or if the dog was just doing its own thing.

After he’s done eating, just as he was about to take the plate and glass to the kitchen, they simply vanish themselves off the table before he even touches them. It unnerved him, they never did that before. Was Gellert banning him from the kitchen? Out of pure curiosity and annoyance, he tries to open the kitchen door, just to try and test his theory, and finds it locked.

 

Was this punishment for teasing him? Was Gellert mad at him? He shakes his head at the mere thought of it. Gellert wasn't that petty. Was he?

 

He tries to relax. He must be over thinking things. Instead of dwelling on it any longer, he decides to head for the study, silently hoping Gellert was in there waiting for him. He sneaks a glance at the armchair, Gellert's armchair, hoping to catch a glimpse of the other man's bone white hair and blue reading glasses, only to enter the study with a sigh when he sees neither. And to his chagrin, the study was also empty aside from the furniture and books. Percival cautiously walks past the row of enchanted tomes, careful not to touch them. Neither Gellert nor Pongo was here to guide him this time. Because it was Gellert who always picked out the books, Gellert who whispers words into the shelves and renders them pliant and harmless. And it was Pongo that steered him away from those shelves and their contents when Gellert wasn't around. He realizes in horror that he never bothered to actually pay attention to what they did and couldn’t remember which books Gellert had chosen before.

 

He blindly test each book with his wand, hoping he could at least manage one that won't end up killing him. In the end he finds one, way in the back, that didn't emit any reaction to his wand, unlike most of the others. This book was thick and leather bound, its pages yellowed severely with age and Percival was sure could fall apart at any second. It was, surprisingly, written in old english and not in latin or german like most of the other old books.

 

_The Tales of Beedle The Bard._

 

He’d seen that title before, somewhere in his mother’s old collection no doubt. He settles himself on the floor, leaning against the shelf where he found it so as not to waste time looking when he has to put it back later. Soon he begins to realize most of the stories in the book were stories he’d heard as a child, if not just a tad more graphic and violent than he remembered. He sits there for hours, reading Beedle’s tales in ernest and laughing to himself when he’d find ones he recognized. Almost all of them told very pro-no-maj stories, of witches and wizards who helped villagers or the common folk with their magic. They almost made him wonder what it would be like to be around in those times, before their kind were persecuted and slaughtered by the no-maj’s they once shared land with. It also made him realize why Gellert was so passionate about his cause. Perhaps he wanted for their people to be like the people in Beedle’s tales, care free and able to practice magic in peace.

 

When he gets to the final chapter and story, he finds a surprise. There was another photo, reminiscent of the ones he found before, but this time young Gellert was standing beside another boy and his eyes were both blue. His companion had auburn hair and wore a pair of spectacles, one arm wrapped around Gellert's middle. They're both smiling, but Gellert seemed more relaxed than the boy at his side. On the back of the photo was an inscription written in Gellert's elegant cursive.

 

_For ~~our~~ the greater good._

 

The way the word ‘our’ was crossed out drew in Percival's interest. Was this boy Gellert's partner? His friend? And even so, what drew them apart? What happened? He turned it over a few times, trying to see if there was anything else he’d missed in the picture. They seemed happy, very happy in fact. What happened?

 

The door creaked open before he could get an answer. He slotted the book back into its place along with the photo and got up to see who it was. Sure enough, Pongo was standing in front of the, tail wagging in unprecedented excitement.

 

“Hey buddy, where’ve you been all day?”, he ruffled the fur on the dog’s head and in turn, Pongo began to tug on his sleeve. “What’s wrong boy?”

 

Pongo lets go of him and points to the door with a steady paw. It was obvious he was telling Percival to go somewhere, so he obliges and opens the door to follow. Pongo leads him up the stairs and to his own room, pawing at door impatiently as Percival makes his way to it. He twist the handle and Pongo immediately pushed his way through and suddenly Percival sees the cause for his excitement.

 

On his bed is a box wrapped in the same scarlet as the presents he once helped Gellert wrap, tied with a shimmering gold ribbon and a single silver bell. For a long while Percival just stares at it from the doorway, his heart beating haphazardly in his chest, heat rising in his cheeks. Gellert got him a present. Gellert Grindelwald, the most peculiar man he has ever met, a man whom he has taken a great liking to these past few days, had gotten him a present.

 

He edges slowly towards it, all the while wondering what was inside. If Gellert got him a present, that would explain all the odd questions he’d been asking. He examines it lightly in his hands, it’s not that big or heavy of a box, before untying the ribbon and tearing through the scarlet wrapping paper. The box itself was nothing special, just your standard sand coloured gift box that you could find at any gift shop. But what was inside made his eyes soften and his lips curve into a slight smile.

 

A sweater, a beautiful emerald green sweater decorated with white reindeer-like silhouettes along the neck and bottom and tiny white dots that Percival assumed to be snow. He held it in his hands, savoring the softness of the fabric and marvelling at the modest and elegant craftsmanship. There was a letter at the bottom of the box where the sweater sat, along with what looked to be a leather bound book. He slowly put the sweater down on his bed and picked up the letter. It read in beautiful cursive writing:

 

_My dear Percival,_

_First of all, I would like to apologize for locking you out of the kitchen and for letting your breakfast get cold. I had intended to keep it warm with a spell but it must have slipped my mind. Second, I hope you’ll forgive me for missing Christmas a few days ago and worrying you by coming home in a bloody mess. That was not my intention I assure you and I am truly, truly sorry Pongo made you share a bed with me, though I admit I enjoyed that flustered look on your face when we woke up. Again, sorry._

_As for the sweater and book I have included with this letter, I had intended to give the book to you on Christmas morning, it's a full of recipes for all the foods I’ve cooked for you this past month, and then some. I made the sweater last night, terrible timing I know and believe me my fingers still hurt, because I felt that it would be unfair for me to not gift you a sweater when I have for all my friends and followers, and you certainly need colour in your life._

_And, as you have probably noticed my odd behavior these past few days, I feel as if it were my responsibility to explain this in a way that would be appropriate for the occasion. By inviting you to diner._

_Your host._   
_Gellert Grindelwald_

_P.S. Wear the sweater, I’ll be waiting for you down stairs._

And with that, Percival sheds the shirt he’d been wearing earlier and hastily changes into the sweater. It fits him like an old glove and he wonders how Gellert even knew his size. He washes his face in the bathroom and checks it one last time in the mirror before rushing out the door and down the stairs. He smiles when he remembers he hadn't actually had lunch yet.

 

Dinner with Gellert Grindelwald, who would've thought.

 

______

 

It took a lot to prepare this dinner, but in the end it was worth it.

 

Laurence’s letter came a bit late, much to Gellert's chagrin, and in all honesty, his friend could not have chosen a more unusual dish to make. Clay roasted human thigh. Gellert had to do a double take to see if he read that correctly the first time. He knew the risk he’d be taking if he ever asked Laurence for dinner ideas, but he never thought the Butcher would be so blunt about his suggestions. There was no way he was going to serve that to Percival without the other man questioning his sanity.

 

So that left him with two choices; find a suitable substitute for human flesh, or go with an entirely different recipe all together. And with time slowly running out, it was safe to say he went with the first option. It didn't help that he spent the night before knitting a last minute sweater for Percival either. He ended up passing out in his private office after that.

 

But in the end, it was all worth it.

 

He glanced behind at the fully decorated table behind him, covered in an embroidered white tablecloth, complete with candles, napkin wrapped silverware, and of course, the food itself. He exchanged human meat for pork, although he dare say they should taste just the same, and ended up with a roast still wrapped in its finely sculpted clay shell. If he had to admit one thing, it’s that he may or may not have almost run out of spices because of this dish, and if his kitchen was any suggestion, his spice rack now had a few empty jars to fill. But he was satisfied, and he hoped Percival would be too.

 

Percival. The man had been on his mind too much lately. He even dug out his mother's old record player just to surprise the other man with some music, since the piano definitely wasn't an option. In fact, there were lots of things he had to dig up from storage just for this dinner. The tablecloth, the napkins, the candle holders, the silver chalices. He never really had any use for these items because he never had a reason to use them. He never had anyone else over to the house since he’d inherited it years ago. Until now that is.

 

When he sees Percival come down the stairs, his heart flutters in his chest. He’s wearing the emerald sweater Gellert made for him, just like he’d asked. Gellert was dressed just as casually, in his favorite red sweater and black pants. With a snap of his fingers the music starts, a slow and cheerful melody fit for the occasion, just Percival reaches the table to great him.

 

“Give a man a warning next time when you're planning something like this Gellert,” he says, panting a bit. “I could’ve saved myself the trouble of trying to break down the kitchen doors”

 

Gellert chuckles. “My apologies Percival, but I couldn't resist. And besides, it would’ve ruined the surprise”

 

He pulls out a chair for Percival and fills his chalice with the finest bottle of wine that he owned in the house. “So, do you like the sweater?”

 

“I’m wearing it aren't I?” Percival jokes as he takes a sip. “It’s really nice and comfy, though I still have no idea how you made this on such short notice or how you even got my size right”

 

“Honestly Percival, give me a little more credit. My clothes fit you just fine, so I just knitted you closer to my size”

 

He moves to the other side of the table, where the clay encrusted thigh was and proceeded to break its outer shell. He glances at Percival for a second and couldn't help but smile at the other man’s curious expression. The dish had achieved its desired effect.

 

“What is that?” Percival asks as Gellert slices a pork loin onto his plate, making sure to get some of the filling. “It smells wonderful”

 

Gellert slices a piece onto his own plate and fills his chalice before taking the seat opposite to Percival. “It should taste wonderful too. Go on Percival, take a bite”

 

And he does, and Gellert can't help but relish in the satisfied moans the other man makes. “Well?”

 

His answer comes in the form of another loud moan and Gellert laughs at the sound before taking a bite of his own slice. In truth, the flavors were a bit too strong for him, granted they were intended for a different kind of meat entirely, but he had to admire Laurence's fine intuition. Who knew it only took a simple roast baked in clay to elicit such obscene noises from the MACUSA’s fine director. It was truly a sight to behold.

 

Halfway through dinner, Percival looks up at him. “Why are doing this anyway? I’m not complaining or anything, but isn't this a bit much for a simple New Year's dinner?”

 

“Perhaps,” he gazes right back into Percival's eyes. “But I wanted to do something nice for you. After all, you healed me and I made you miss Christmas, I figured I might as well do something nice. Before we go back to being enemies”

 

“Yeah, I guess that makes sense”

 

Neither of them say anything for the rest of the meal, all the while Pongo sat beneath the table, blissfully enjoying his bone marrow and pork chops.

 

It wasn't until the entire dish was finished and they both had a little too much to drink that Gellert got up and offered his hand to Percival. “Care for a dance?”

 

The other man stares at his offered hand before flashing him a sly grin. “Why the hell not?”

 

Soon they find themselves dancing in the wide space between the piano, the table, and the fireplace. Percival's chest was pressed flush against his, their faces mere inches apart and their breaths slightly reeking of spices and alcohol. Their hands are wrapped around each other's shoulders and waist, their movements slow and in tune with the music. Gellert wishes they could stay like this, with him gazing into Percival's eyes and holding him close, the world around them sorely forgotten. They stay like that, oddly pliant and only partially sober in each other's arms. Until Percival breaks their silence.

 

“You know, I was in the study….”

 

Gellert hums in acknowledgement.

 

“....and I was reading this book, The Tales of Beedle The Bard. Turns out it was just a bunch of old stories I’d heard as a kid, that I just couldn't remember the names of….”

 

_Beedle The Bard…_

 

“And then at the last chapter, The Tale of The Three Brothers, I found this photo….”

 

_The Three Brothers………a photo…_

 

Gellert stops. The photo. The photo of him and….

 

“....it was of you and this…guy with red-ish hair. I’ve seen photos of a younger you, Gellert, but….”

 

How could he have been so stupid. He should’ve burned that photo a long time ago. That photo of him and Albus, the memory of its creation still imprinted in his mind.

 

“.....never one with words on it-”

 

He needed for Percival to stop talking. He couldn't stand that memory-

 

“...For the greater good-”

 

_For ~~our~~ greater good._

 

“...and I was just wondering….who he was to you-”

 

He kisses him.

_______

 

The feeling of Gellert's lips on his was almost enough to make him sober. The taste of spices, alcohol, dark chocolate, and smoke. Percival doesn't know why, but he savors them. He bites down on Gellert’s lower lip, eliciting a soft moan from the other man. His hands squeeze Gellert's shoulders. Suddenly he pulls away, but Percival follows. He doesn't want it to stop, wants to taste those pale lips regardless of whose mouth they belong to. And he’ll be damned if Gellert gets away with teasing him like that.

 

He kisses him again, and again, and again, until Gellert let's him into his mouth, their tongues intertwining. It's intoxicating, it’s wrong, but it’s addicting. Gellert bites his lip and he moans. Gellert is saying something, his breaths are ragged and harsh, but Percival doesn't give a damn. He doesn't care. He hardly notices that they're moving, that he had been pushing Gellert all the way over to the piano. The man eating, magnificent black piano.

 

He realizes all too soon how close they were to it, but just doesn't care. Not until he’s shoved Gellert onto the bench, straddling him and grinding their hips together, all the while kissing him like a lustful and depraved animal. He hasn't felt this alive in a very long time. And he doesn't want it to stop either.

 

Gellert pulls away to kiss the corners of his mouth, and then his jaw, and finally his neck. He lingers there, kissing and tasting the skin, teeth barely grazing but it’s enough to drive Percival insane. There are hands under his sweater and in his pants, caressing the skin there and tracing all the scars on his back. Percival tangles his fingers in Gellert's hair, letting the dark wizard have his way with him, as soft and high pitched noises he never even thought possible escaped his throat. It was pure bliss, and he thought it would stay like that.

 

Until Gellert stops. His hands stop tracing Percival's back, his lips stop kissing his skin. He stops. Instead those hands pulled him in closer and those lips whisper something against Percival's neck. It doesn't take long for Percival to realize what he’s doing as he wraps his own arms around Gellert's neck and shoulders. And then he remembers and realizes why. That kiss was not some spur of the moment kiss, or an alcohol induced one either. That kiss had been an effort to get Percival to stop talking, because Percival had asked a question-

 

Oh.

 

“Who was he Gellert?” he whispers into the dark wizards hair. “Who was he? What did he do?”

 

Gellert says nothing and somehow only tightens his embrace. They stay silent like that for a while, until finally, the dark wizard whispers softly into the crook into his neck. “I loved him. I loved him and he forced me away. He blamed me for…for her death…I didn't mean to kill her, Percy. It was an accident”

 

“What was his name?”

 

Gellert burrowed deeper into Percival’s neck, but he could just make out a very, very faint whisper. “Albus….”

 

He doesn't know what to say, and knows it’s his fault. If he hadn't brought up that damned photo, if he hadn't taken that kiss for more than it was worth, he wouldn't have Gellert's wet face hidden behind the crook of his neck.

 

Without thinking he starts stroking Gellert's hair, his spiky bone white and short cut lockes, and played with the seam of his sweater collar. He wonders if this Albus person knew what Gellert was really like, if those happy smiles in that photo had been the last of their kind. But he had seen Gellert laugh, he had seen him smile and joke and giggle. He had also seen Gellert's scars, what he was willing to do for the people he cared most about.

 

Suddenly Gellert shifts, his grip on Percival loosen just enough for them to look eye to eye at each other. His cheeks were wet but his eyes seemed brighter than they were before.

 

“You know, Percival,” he begins to say. “I didn't expect tonight to end up like this”

 

Percival blushes. “Yeah, well me neither. Though, I guess it is partially my fault. I was the one who brought up the photo”

 

“You have nothing to be sorry for Percival, you were just curious, and I shouldn’t have overreacted,” he turned nod at the piano behind them. “The piano however….”

 

“It made you relive your memories. Just like it did mine”, which made sense, considering what it was cursed to do.

 

Gellert nodded and smiled sadly. “Yes. Sometimes it can't tell the difference between its master and its next victim”

 

He brings up a hand to caress Percival's cheek, which makes him blush harder. “I-I’m sorry about before. You know, the kiss and….this”. He tries to get up up, but Gellert's firm hands on his hips keep him in place.

 

“No need to apologize for that either. Actually, I quite enjoyed it. It’s been a long time since I’ve had a partner that eager”, he flashes Percival an innocent grin. “And I do believe I owe you an explanation for my odd behavior this past week”

 

Percival swallows. “Yes, yes you do”

 

“The truth is I’ve grown rather fond of you, Percival Graves. Though I admit, a bit too fond. And whenever I find someone I like, I try to get to know them a little better. You are an intriguing man Percival, it’s shame that after this, we will have to go back to being enemies-”

 

“No we don't” Percival says without thinking. Gellert stares at him, but when he doesn't say anything, Percival continues. “We don't. We can pretend to be enemies. I can pretend to hate you and you me, but we don't have to actually hate each other. I can lie to MACUSA, I can lie to Piquery, heck, I’ll tell the whole world I hate your guts. But we can still be friends, if you want, behind closed doors”

 

Gellert stares at him for a long while before he finally says; “Why?”

 

“Because I don't think I can hate you anymore after seeing you like this”

 

He hesitates for a moment but brings a shaky hand to cup Gellert's face and slowly brings their lips together. This time it’s sweet, short, and when Gellert pulls away, he looks up at Percival and smiles.

 

“I think I’d like that, but there's one slight problem,” he brings himself closer until Percival could feel his breath on the shell of his ear. “What if I want to be more than friends?”

 

His voice sends a shiver down Percival's spine and heat rushing up to his cheeks. “Th-that works too”

 

When Gellert kisses him again, it’s invigoratingly slow and Percival could feel his hands slipping under the waistband of his pants. He moans as Gellert bites his bottom lip and lets out a surprised squeak when the other man squeezes his ass. Gellert laughs into his mouth as Percival slips a hand up the other man's sweater.

 

That night, Gellert fucks him over every single flat surface in the house, even the grand piano that Gellert claims shouldn’t want to eat him anymore now that it’s tasted an entirely different part of him, and the very next days he wakes up in the other man's bed feeling so sore he could barely walk. But it was worth it. It was worth it just to see Gellert smile and to wake up that morning to Gellert peacefully sleeping beside him.

 

And he wishes it could stay that way forever.

_______

 

Four months later

 

“Good morning Mister Graves!”

 

“Good day Mister Graves!”

 

“Morning Percival”

 

Percival rushes through the office, past his aurors and coworkers who seemed all too eager to greet him. And to think that not so long ago they wouldn't have even glanced at his face. If it weren't for him saving their asses during a raid two months ago and busting a bunch of dangerous black market dealers a day later, they all would've pretty much stayed the same ignorant bastards as the day he first came back into their ranks. A lot has changed since then.

 

He passes Piquery, who hands him a stack of files to read and papers to sign, all while flashing him a grin and handing him a cup of coffee. She’d gotten used to him again, no longer annoyed at his kidnapping and the Grindelwald fiasco anymore. She still thinks they have a chance at catching him, and Percival can only nod and smile in agreement whenever she brought it up in a meeting. If only she knew what he knew.

 

When he gets to his office, he immediately locks the door and places the stack of papers on his desk, taking a small sip of his coffee when he finally sits down on his chair. His office was still as bland as it was before, with the only exception being the large mirror that now hung on the left wall to his desk. When anyone asked about it, he’d say it was a Christmas gift a friend sent over. After all, a lot of things had changed since then.

 

He often imagines it, on mornings like this, if they all knew the truth. If they found out the only reason he’d saved their lives two months ago was because Gellert had persuaded him to. That Gellert had been the one to tell him about the dealers and where to find them. That for the past four months he had been willingly feeding precious government secrets to the enemy, while said enemy sent him gingerbread cookies and flowers whenever he was having a bad day.

 

In the end, MACUSA will remain forever clueless. They would never suspect that their dear Director of Magical Security was having an affair with the greatest dark wizard of their time.

 

He smiles to himself as he signs another paper and casually sips his coffee.


End file.
